Spirit's Arm Explodes (18+: violence, death mention)

Spirit felt out of place fighting here. She was used to battles with Creatures ending up in some dark, dank, cave system. Maybe in a cavern if she was lucky- but usually in a cramped hallway. But… here? She was under the sky. Under the sun and the clouds. She tried to breathe in the fresh air, but all that filled her lungs was the smell of brimstone and fire. She coughed and looked back to her opponent. It looked like a pony, with a deep purple coat and a black, curly, mane. However, the closer one looked the more it would be clear that it was… not just a pony. It had no coat- that was skin that was dark purple like that. It was scaled. It’s eyes were deep red, with cat-like slits down the middle. Fangs lined its mouth, with a snake’s tongue flickering in and out. Two horns split its head, curling under its ears like those of a ram. And worse still, was it’s voice. “How much do we have to go over this, Witch?” it asked, with a laugh and a shake of its head, “Your magic means nothing to me. You can’t hurt me with anything like that!” God, the way he spoke just got on her nerves. She didn’t listen, and just threw open her saddlebag, pulling out a spell card and tossing it into the air. It burned away in golden flame. And from its spot above them, it fired down a large bolt of energy- raw magical power. The demon, though, just laughed again and stamped a hoof. The spell card was gone. As was the bolt, “Please. You may be strong by the standards of your kind… but you stand no chance against a Tartaric Lord.” Spirit spit at him, hitting him on the cheek, “kicked all your family’s ass, didn’t i, little lordie.” It snorted, dark smoke escaping its nostrils as it charged towards her. She was able to just barely duck out of the way of his shocking speed. One of his horns nicked her across the arm and she let out a sound of surprise. Though not one as frustrated or shocked as the beast, as it impacted the stone wall of a dilapidated, abandoned home in this ancient city they were doing battle in. The wall crumbled like nothing, and dust plumed. From the dust came another charge. One that spirit wasn’t ready for this time. She was pushed backwards. Until she was up against a wall. The creature spoke, again, “Now. Just admit defeat. Let me go on my little way. I’ll have fun in your world and you, my dear… you don’t have to die.” As it spoke, it took another quarter step forwards, keeping her pinned against the stone with its horns. She let out a choked gasp. She, of course, couldn’t respond. Though she did make her answer very clear. By the silver dagger that she attempted to bury into the beasts skull. Though, with her weakened state, she managed a cut across the back of its neck. “Good. I didn’t want you to live anyways.” Another fraction of an inch. She felt like she was going to split in twain at any moment. She had no other real choice. She reached down and placed a hoof upon the back of the creature’s head. Lights began to dance up and down her arm, grimy and covered in nicks and cuts.. Blue runes etched themselves onto her skin, as she let out a raw force of energy, pushing the thing away, and giving her a moment to breathe. Thankfully… it wasn’t expecting it. It couldn’t counter it. Though it was still just as fast, able to get her back up against the wall, this time pinning her shoulder with a cloven hoof. She felt something crack, and she couldn’t hold back a cry of pain. Well.. it worked once. She could do it again. Right? Blue energy danced up her hoof- up her arm- up he shoulder. The demon snorted and shook its head, “She’s still got some fight, doesn’t she? Well.. I know your tricks, this time, Witch,” it said with a cackle. It grinned, those wicked razor sharp teeth just inches from her face, “Now… tell me how should I kill you? Maybe you should suffer. Maybe you should…” It blinked when smoke wafted up in front of it. A glance down showed that it was, indeed, Spirit’s runed arm doing so. Her teeth gritted as her body was all but branded by this energy, “Your body can’t handle that, Witch,” it said, though its voice seemed to be… more nervous. Scared? Could it be scared, “If you let that out it’ll be a deathwish.” And… Spirit spoke, again, though gritted teeth, “A world without either of us is a world that’s better off, asshole.” She launched her head forwards, headbutting the beast. It recoiled just enough that she slipped from its grip. She swept its legs out. And suddenly, she was on top, that burning mark upon its neck. Once more, she spat, directly onto its forehead, “Killed your fam. I’ll kill you too.” Bright, white, light. An explosion, localized solely upon one small area. Enough magic that even a Prince of Tartarus couldn’t counter it. Enough raw, magical, energy, that most any pony that channelled that through themselves would be dead. The nearby buildings buckled under the weight of this burst, falling inwards, burying the two under rubble. Or at least… the Witch and the Ash that was once a Prince. This much magic would kill most anyone. And so, Spirit was VERY lucky that she wasn’t just anyone. She was the goddamn Witch of the Everfree. Stones shifted. A small form could be seen, moving. Digging. Until, Spirit Weaver broke the surface, sucking in a deep breath, like a diver having gone down too low past their normal depth. She crawled up on top of the rubble. And… passed out. Again. How much time passed? Who knew. But Spirit did know one thing. She woke up (A shock even to her, in all honesty) to the one thing that she hated more than arrogant beasts. Teenagers. “I ain’t gonna do it. What if it gets up?” “C’mon you little baby. Never poked a body with a stick?” “I ain’t reckon I h- Wait. Clem! You’re my big bro! I know you never done nothin’ like that, neither!” “Aww, shaddup, Navy, you ain’t know what me n the boys get up to! Now gimme that!” Spirit, to her merit, had just remained there, hoping they’d go away. Until… she felt it. A thin stick, prodding at her face. It poked at her cheeks, her nose, her ears… it even ended up between her lips, prodding her teeth. Two pairs of screams echoed through the ruined area when Spirit suddenly snapped biting the stick in two, and spitting it away from herself, “I’m not dead yet, you little pricks.” Her eyes opened. And the world cleared. It was still bright. Had it been an hour? Or a day? In front of her were two ponies, orange coats, and manes covered by straw hats. They looked quite young, “Get out of here. It’s dangerous out here,” She said as she staggered to her hooves. After her blowout, she looked to her leg. Fur was blackened, and she could see the wisps of some of her markings seared into her flesh. Well. The first scar that she gave herself, it was. She tried to put weight on it, and immediately tumbled over, falling end over end down the small hill of rocks, to skid to a stop in front of the two colts, “Well, shoot. Ya dead now, miss? C’mon. You’re in a right bad shape. Mama’ll know just how to help patch you up.” “My shoulder is broken. My leg is shattered. I am covered in bruises. I don’t think your mother can help,” She said, as she stood again, attempting to walk, only to nearly fall over again. Both colts would soon flank her, and start to guide her abit. “You ain’t never had mama’s cookin. Her orange cream pie’ll set ya right as rain! And if that don’t work… Daddy’s got a carriage headin’ into town tomorrow for the market!” Spirit staggered off, being helped by the two colts, now. She should have stayed under the stones.